


Love and Insanity

by Anythingkj



Category: No. 6 (Anime & Manga), No. 6 - All Media Types, No. 6 - Asano Atsuko
Genre: Dysfunctional Relationships, I Don't Even Know, M/M, Post-Canon, basically dark interpretation of Shion and his and Nezumi's future after canon, dysfunction, just dysfunction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-29
Updated: 2015-01-29
Packaged: 2018-03-09 13:17:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3251102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anythingkj/pseuds/Anythingkj
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There is a line between love and insanity.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love and Insanity

**Author's Note:**

> So basically I was reading a bunch of No. 6 fanfiction, and I kind of saw that Shion's portrayed as this really.... innocent character, and he is to a certain degree, but... there is a lot of stuff that happened with him and a lot of things that he did that aren't exactly normal.  
> I also noticed that in every fanfic it's sort of like "well this wall fell so now we're going to have a functioning government and society!" Which does kind of happen in Beyond, but it bothers me a bit. I feel like Shion's simple "fixing" of the government isn't very... realistic. So this is essentially my dark alternative because I am incapable of writing anything happy.  
> I hope you like it anyway, and that the characters aren't too OOC. I haven't written much for this fandom.

There is a line between love and insanity.

There is a line between love and insanity, you say, your head tilted back and your eyes shut as you lay next to me on our bed, but when I ask you where it is you smile and tell me you don't know.

You've just gotten back from one of your shows, and you have the same attire as usual. A long, flowy dress. Your soft hair down and now a mess, knotted and frizzy, your makeup smudged and running, mascara painting your cheeks.

You're still beautiful.

You never believe me when I tell you, and you probably never will, but like this you're even more beautiful than when you're on stage, with a possessive mark on your neck, one that I've put there, and your breath coming out in short huffs. You're so tired that you hardly protest when I get up and grab a wet washcloth to wipe away the evidence that you'd ever come apart under my fingers... the same way I'd cleaned up the broken wine glass you'd thrown at me when I messed up for the thousandth time that day.

I am always messing up.

But it's okay. So are you.

<><><><><><><>

There is a line between love and insanity.

There is a line between love and insanity, but ours blurred from the time I met you from the time we first kissed, and all together disappeared from the time I killed for you and the time you changed yourself for me.

So when you tell me I have to stay, that I'm not allowed to leave with tears and snot running down your face as I stand at the door with a bag in one hand and the other on the gold handle of our front door, I listen. My bag clatters to the floor as my hand goes limp, and I turn, sink to the ground, and cry with you.

<><><><><><><>

The gun now feels light in my hands.

It used to be a weight. My hands used to shake as I pulled the trigger, my arms would ache as I struggled to hold it up. The force of the shot make it hard to stand.

Now, it is a part of me.

_We're sorry, Shion, it simply can not be done._

It's easy now, pulling that trigger.

_BANG!_

There's still the force that pushes me backwards when the gun fires, but now I ride it easily, so easily it's somewhat calming, despite the adrenaline.

Should it be calming? Should I like the feeling of hitting my targets right on point? Should this adrenaline leave me feeling powerful?

I don't know, really, but I know this love for it comes from you. Drugs were never your scene, of course, but everyone knows that look on your face when you know there's danger about. It's a high for you, I know that. I guess we spend so much time together you passed it on.

But maybe you just like being the hero. My hero. Feeling like you're someone.

I shake away the chill that runs down my spine, raise the gun again and point it at the rightmost target- a small can- and focus on the curl of a piece of its peeling red paint. Gritting my teeth and setting my feet....

I fire.

<><><><><><><>

When I get home, you are lying on the couch in your favorite dress once again.

You look spent, your eyelids fluttering lightly and chest visibly heaving, but I don't say anything about it. I ask you what show you need the dress for.

"No show," You tell me, words slurred. "Just felt like wearing it."

I nod wordlessly and head off to the bedroom to put on casual clothes. You may love it when I wear my work clothes, but they make me uncomfortable. They make me feel fake, like some sort of impostor.

"Shion," Your voice is slightly breathless now, but still manages to be demanding. "Tell me you didn't do anything."

I didn't, I _haven't_ done _anything_ , but I don't answer you. I could tell you about the meeting. I should tell you I have that gun.

I could, I _should_ , but I don't, and in return you doesn't ask me anything else. And you don't say a word when I curl up next to you, clad in only boxers, and you don't say anything still when I get snot and tears on your dress. The fabric of the dress is wet and sticky against my cheek, and I feel your breathing start to stutter and drops of water drip onto my forehead, but I just clutch you tighter and let my eyes drift shut.

_Why don't you say anything?_

<><><><><><><>

It isn't often I get the chance to see your shows.

I still don't particularly like the large crowds, so even though on stage is where you are happiest, and I love seeing you happy, I rarely go. They're still rowdy and obnoxious, even though many former No. 6 citizens love going to see you and the entire board (including me) is trying their best to clean up the streets of the former West Block.

I'm much better at navigating the streets than I used to be. I manage to find the gaps in between the mass, turning and maneuvering my body so that I can make it to the theatre without a fight. I don't like to fight. I know you don't believe me when I say so, but I don't. I just can't stand it when-

"Hey, Eve!"

_Eve._ That's you. At least it's you when you're on the stage. It's not you now, and I know this when I see you. Right now you're Nezumi, but the crowds don't understand that. They never did and they never will. I know now that I've missed the show, but I don't care about that. All I can see is the man who had called your name walking toward you with a sneer on his face. I feel my fingernails nipping into my palms, my jaw tightening.

You give him this _look,_ one that says _stay the fuck away,_ but he doesn't seem to notice. He puts a hand on your shoulder to stop you from leaving, I feel heat rise to my face and my skin crawls.

I don't like the way he touches you.

I can't hear what he's saying now, but you still haven't seen me so I do my best to get closer and blend in with the crowd. I can hear bits and pieces of what the man is saying...

_-been coming to your shows since before the fall of the wall-_

_-there's nothing I'd like better than to-_

_-I've been having these dreams-_

At that last remark you shove him, so hard he goes stumbling backwards. I get that _feeling,_ the one that I get sometimes when people hurt you. It's almost like that rush of adrenaline after I shoot my gun, but this is not just adrenaline. This is anger pulsing through my veins, this is the anger that leaves me standing over bloodied bodies without a trance of remorse...

...I don't want to stop it. Not this time.

I can _see_ him touching you still in my head, and my hands start to shake.

_How dare you do that to Nezumi._

I can feel my knife prodding at my thigh from my pocket. I don't care about people seeing me. I don't _care_ about anything but sticking that knife into the man's gut.

It's then that you see me.

You seem to realize that I'm on the edge; your eyes flicker from me to the man you've just shoved, and they plead: _No. Not now._ And I know you're right. I know that especially in my position of power on the board that I can't afford to do this in public. After all, No. 6 no longer has control of the media, so it's just like how Rikiga describes what the media was like before No. 6- anyone can publish and share anything they'd like with the public. So if I were to _hurt_ the man... it would be everywhere. I'd probably get thrown off the board and maybe... maybe into _prison._

Prison is a form of punishment that, according to our research, ancient civilizations used to lock up all of the criminals and keep them from being in society and causing harm. We've recently reinstated it. Everyone else on the board thought it was a great idea... but something didn't sit right with me. Why would you put all of your criminals in one place? Won't it just make things worse? What if there was a revolt, or what if the prisoners got released and were even worse than before? No one would listen to me, though, even though we all know there's a reason why all of the ancient civilizations failed. I even came up with a new plan, new ways to punish people without being like No. 6 and keeping them in line, one that I was sure would work, but...

_Sorry, Shion, it just can't be done._

Now it was all coming back to me.

But the thought of the prison just makes me more angry, and I stride forward.

I'm only a few feet away from him. He notices me, eyes widening when he sees the knife in my raised hand. I'm almost there, arm swooping down and so, so close to breaking his skin when-

You grab my arm.

You grab my arm, and you hold me back, and even as I struggle I _can't get past you,_ you've always been stronger than me and you weren't afraid to let me know, and I always knew you were stronger but I hate being held back like this, I _hate_ it, I _hate_ feeling helpless like this any _you know it-_

"Shion," You nearly growl. "Get yourself together. You know what'll happen if you lose it."

And I do know, I _do,_ I know I'll lose everything, and I'll probably end up in this new _prison_ and even though I know I'd be able to escape especially because it's not so secure yet the thought of being there - _trapped -_ leaves my whole body shaking.

Even though I barely register it, I see you nod your head towards the guy, who looks perplexed. You're letting him away, giving him permission to go... and I'm too weak to do anything about it.

People are staring. I can feel them staring.

"Shion," You're saying again, your voice more panicked now. "Shion, snap out of it. Stop it."

My grip on the knife is loosening without my permission, and I feel you pluck it from my fingers before it hits the ground. Expertly you twirl it in your fingers and stick it in your jacket pocket.

"Shion," I don't know why you keep saying my name. You've already gotten my attention. "Stop crying. We're going home."

I suddenly feel the heaviness of tears on my cheeks being blown every which way as you grab my hand and begin to run. As we run, the world comes back to focus. Before I know it, we're back at our home and you're shoving me inside, slamming the door and gritting your teeth.

I only realize what I've done as the world around me comes back completely. When I get angry like that, I don't care about anything but making someone else feel _pain,_ and I can't see anything but my target. There's nothing I care about except making them _pay._

Now I can see, and I see you. I hardly ever see you like this, but I don't like it. I don't like the way your fingers subconsciously float over any hard surface in front of you. I don't like the way you open your mouth to speak, but no words come out. I don't like the way you look at me. I don't like the fear in your eyes.

You finally speak.

"That was worse than usual."

You're right, of course. You're always right about this stuff.

"Yeah."

I'm usually able to snap out of it quickly. It usually... happens, and then all of the anger just disappears. This time, it stayed. This time, I started sobbing and didn't even realize.

I don't want to think about it.


End file.
